


And just like that...

by greedy_dancer



Series: Tropes Meme [2]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Comment Fic, Kid Fic, M/M, Schmoop, Tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-19
Updated: 2012-09-19
Packaged: 2017-11-14 15:30:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/516839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greedy_dancer/pseuds/greedy_dancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Tony watches as she flails and punches herself in the face. She looks so indignant; it reminds Tony of Steve for a second, back when they'd just met.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>"I guess she's pretty funny," Tony concedes. "Still. Don't get attached, you know you have to give her back in a couple days."</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	And just like that...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lc2l](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lc2l/gifts).



> Written for the Tropes meme over [on DW](http://greedy-dancer.dreamwidth.org/641747.html?thread=3527379#cmt3527379), for the prompt: _Steve/Tony accidental baby_
> 
> Thanks to Valtyr for the once-over! Remaining errors are mine because I can't stop fiddling.

Steve _coos_. Then he seems to realize Tony is staring and he straightens up. She squeals at him from the crib. 

"What?" Steve says.

Tony raises an eyebrow.

"Aw come on, Tony, even you must see she's adorable!"

"She's..." Tony looks at her again. She's really, really tiny, not old enough to have motor control yet. He watches as she flails and punches herself in the face. She looks so indignant; it reminds Tony of Steve for a second, back when they'd just met.

"I guess she's pretty funny," Tony concedes. "Still. Don't get attached, you know you have to give her back in a couple days."

"I know," Steve says softly, bending over her again and extending a massive hand for her to try and grasp. It's twice the size of her head, and Tony watches as she makes a hilariously uncoordinated attempt to catch one of his fingers. Her moves are so jerky, it's like she's just learning to operate a suit of her own. Which she is, Tony guesses. Huh.

"If Nat comes back and you've broken her, I'm not coming to your defense when she kills you," Tony warns.

"Stop worrying," Steve says. "I know what I'm doing. And I'm great with babies. I had to be, I'd get a couple handed to me every night during the USO tour. Crying babies are bad publicity."

Tony can't believe anything Steve does, or ever did, could be considered bad publicity. Well. There's the fact that he's in a same-sex relationship with a former alcoholic womanizing arms merchant, of course, but apart from that...

Steve has picked her up now. She's resting in the crook of his arm and Steve is rocking her gently back and forth. He's humming, a small smile on his lips. Tony blinks.

"We could get one," he blurts out.

"Hm?"

"A baby. We could get one. If you wanted one." Jesus fucking Christ, he needs to shut up now.

Steve stops at that, turning to face Tony. "Don't just say that," he says, quiet and intent. "Tony, you can't joke about things like that."

"Who says I'm joking. There are ways, you know. If you- If we wanted. To. Um. Do that. I have lawyers, and-"

Tony's mouth closes abruptly when Steve takes a step towards him, still holding her like he's done it all his life. It's making something in Tony's gut churn. Actually, Tony's gut has been churning for a while. He just didn't realize until now. He takes the last step separating him from Steve and leans against Steve's side and looks at the baby, tiny against Steve's hand. She reaches out towards Tony suddenly, smiling toothless and wide, and Steve keeps holding her as she tries to catch the light from the reactor. 

Tony's swallows hard. They watch her in silence for a while longer.

"Let's talk about it," Steve says, barely audible, and Tony can't force words through the tightness in his throat, so he just leans against Steve's shoulder a little more, and nods.


End file.
